


different from the rest

by hawrthiacoopri



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/F, M/M, my fav st fic ive ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 21:38:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12780030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawrthiacoopri/pseuds/hawrthiacoopri
Summary: And anyway, maybe it's a lost animal of some kind, she thinks as she says her goodbyes to her friends and starts in through the gym's double doors, maybe the Cox's cat or a stray dog. Maybe it's nothing at all.Still, though, she decides to check, and pads carefully across the indoor basketball court."Hello?" She says tentatively, hitching her bag higher up her shoulder and listening intently as a small voice responds, almost too quiet to hear.





	different from the rest

Jennifer is just walking to class, laughing at something one of the other kids had said as she's leaving the school at the end of the day, when she hears a soft hiccuping sounds from the vacant gym.

Now, she's never been much for heroics, and she certainly doesn't want to be singled out as a goody-two-shoes by her friends, but she can't help but feel as if she's supposed to be with whoever is in there, and anyway, she's curious. The cries aren't in a feminine pitch, but boys don't typically cry, do they? Not in Hawkins.

And anyway, maybe it's a lost animal of some kind, she thinks as she says her goodbyes to her friends and starts in through the gym's double doors, maybe the Cox's cat or a stray dog. Maybe it's nothing at all.

Still, though, she decides to check, and pads carefully across the indoor basketball court. 

"Hello?" She says tentatively, hitching her bag higher up her shoulder and listening intently as a small voice responds, almost too quiet to hear. 

"What do you want?" The voice replies timidly, obviously trying to muster up the courage to sound annoyed but instead just sounding broken and tired. Jennifer's chest tightens, recognizing the voice as that of Will Byers. 

She doesn't know Will too well, outside of their shared classes and Troy's offhanded comments about 'that Byers kid', or occasionally, "the queer', but she did know he was too sweet to get by in this school. Boys weren't supposed to be... the way Will was. Quiet. Artistic. They were supposed to be rough and tumble, touch and go, any combination of those. 

Jennifer felt now that she wished she did know him better, that she'd said something nice to him before today or at least not stood by as Troy and James picked on him, sometimes until he bled and bruised, so that he wouldn't sound quite so scared.

"What's wrong?" 

"Do you care?" Will replied, his voice tinged with an acidity that sent a shiver down Jenny's spine. Something told her that bitterness rarely touched this boy's voice, no matter how much he felt in his heart, and it scared her. 

"Well, of course I care," Jennifer says defensively, "you're crying in an empty middle school gym, and I heard you. Why would I come in if I didn't care?” She begins intently trying to locate where Will is, and settles on the bleachers, walking towards him and skipping up the steps.

“I… I dunno…” Will manages in his normal voice, ringing throughout the room and making him jump. “You're nice?”

Jennifer smiles to herself, still guilty over her past inaction, her footfall pattering up the stairs until she comes to one of the back rows. “Well… Um.” She looks down at the boy, sitting in the space between seats. “Can I sit here?” 

Will laughs slightly, unfurling himself and shaking his legs out. “Yeah. Sorry, I…” He trails off, sniffing a little and wiping his damp eyes. Jennifer spots a yellowing bruise on the side of his temple, and feels another twinge of remorse. Troy. 

“What happened?” 

Will’s head snaps up, and he looks like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Huh?” 

“Why’re you here? What happened with the…” She gestures to her own cheekbone. She knows the gist, of course, because you need didn't know how Will Byers had gotten a bloody nose or a bruise. 

Will cups a hand to his temple, before wincing and dropping his hand. “Oh, I just tripped and hit my-” 

“Will.” Jennifer puts a tentative hand on his shoulder, removing it immediately when he flinches instinctively, and again, feels that queasy guilt. Why hasn't she ever said anything? He's obviously been taught that touch was bad, and her dad had always said that taught response reinforced with negative rewards can rarely be untaught. “Sorry.” She quickly hides her hands between her knees, showing him she's surrendered.

“You have to promise you won't tell anyone.” Will’s eyes are filled with a sort of hunger, a pleading for her to say she wouldn't. 

Jennifer nods, locking pinkies with him before smoothing her skirt and looking at him expectantly. 

“Okay. So, first of all, you can guess how I got the bruise.” Jennifer nods again, trying to stay quiet as not to interrupt this quiet boy. 

So Will tells her everything, from his crap dad to his mom and her two jobs, to dealing with Troy and James and all the schoolyard taunts. He tells her about Dustin and Lucas and Mike and their campaigns, and how they seem like the only reason to keep up appearances and be happy. The whole time, Jennifer nods, listening and smiling encouragingly, waiting for him to finish. 

Once he finishes, she says, “I'm sorry.” She isn't sure what you're supposed to say to someone who just spilled his guts to you, but she'll be sure to ask mom when she gets home. 

“Yeah, well,” Will responds lightheartedly, “not exactly something you can apologize for. Not your fault. And there's also…” He seems as if there's something he really, really wants to say, but just doesn't know how to verbalize it. 

“Also… What?” Jennifer leans forwards, her hair swinging in a platinum sheet as she looks at Will closely. 

“It's just…” 

Jennifer places a hand on Will’s, patting it with the graveness of a girl much older than 12. “You can tell me. I didn't judge you when you told me about your mom and all that!”   
Will agrees again, and looks at her uneasily, before closing his eyes and letting out a shaky breath. When he opens them, he looks even younger than he did before. He steels himself for the response, before blurting out in a flurry of anxiety, “I don't like girls. And… I hate it.” He blinks back tears, trying to keep it together in front of this prim little girl, and buries his head in his hands. 

“Is that all?” Jennifer's voice sounds small, and comforting in that aspect, and she slowly pries Will’s hands away from his face. 

“Is that ALL?” Will says in disbelief. “I tell you I'm… That I don't like girls and you think it doesn't matter?”

Jennifer rolls her eyes. “Will, you're sitting next to someone in the same thing as you, and you're saying that it matters?” 

“Huh?” Will looks confused, and before he can think, Jennifer looks at him seriously.   
“Will, I'm also… I do like girls. And I… Don't hate it? Like, sure, I can't ever tell anyone, but liking girls… It's easy. And that's the only thing I hate about it. It's so hard to have crushes on boys, because if you do, everyone knows. But if you like girls, no one has to know, because no one thinks it.” 

Will blinks, unused to this openness. But he screws up the courage to talk back to this veritable princess in their shook and says, “but that's… That's not true! Everyone knows if I like a boy, and even if I don't, they make jokes, and it makes it seem like I do. I wish… I wish people would just leave me alone, like they leave you alone.” 

Jennifer listens thoughtfully, the very picture of her father, before saying, “well, maybe we just have different things.” 

“I guess so.” Will shifts uncomfortably, before he lets his sunshine personality shine through for a moment. “Hey, Jennifer?” 

“Yep?” Jennifer looks at him indulgently.

“D’you… D’you ever pretend you like people in front of your friends?” Will looks nervously at her, eager to know if they share similarities.

“Yeah.” Jennifer smiles a secretive smile, one that makes Will crack one as well. “All the time. You?” 

“Me too!” Will says excitedly, seeming to be 20 pounds lighter after his confession. “Who… Who d’you choose? Like, how and stuff.” 

“Eh,” she replies, “usually someone people think is cute, but don't really care about, so there aren't fights. Sometimes kids who need protection from Troy and the rest.” She isn't lying about that last part, but she wished she was. It felt wrong that she have so much power. 

“Like who?” Will implores, feeling rather silly asking a girl who likes girls which boy she likes. 

“Well… they don't ask me anymore, since they don't want James to get angry, since, you know…” She pauses, looking meaningfully at Will. “But, they asked in truth or dare last weekend or something and I said your friend Michael, but switched it later, but then went back.” 

“Oh, Mike? He’s-” Will stops, cheeks beginning to flare and looking away. “That's cool.”   
“Aaw, Will, does someone have a crush?” Jennifer sing-songs, feeling an unexplainable connection to this strange little boy and bouncing her crossed legs. 

It occurs to her in that moment how out of place they must look; the prettiest girl in the seventh grade, in her white tights and nice navy blue dress and flats, hair slicked back in a tighter-than-a-vice ponytail, next to nerdy little Will Byers, outsized by his big clothes and his warm features and heart, full of hope and art and ideas, but so very thin, downtrodden from years of schoolyard abuse and something else; something Jennifer knew well from says spent poring over her father’s psychology and therapy books. The queer and the princess. Regal and hopeless, side by side. 

“Shut up, I do not!” Will says in a defensive, but playful tone, “Mike’s just… A nice guy! He's…. I dunno, he's sweet. And smart. He's a dream at writing. He's my best friend.” 

“And, I bet you noticed, pretty cute?” She leaves off the ‘for a geek’ that was itching to roll off her tongue. 

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Will says loftily, looking across the dark gym, down the risers at the chip bags and papers left on the floor from the pep rally. “I don't pay attention to that.” 

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Jennifer mocks, smiling mischievously and scooting closer to the boy. “Will, d’you really think you can’t tell me?”

“I… I know I can now,” Will protests, “I just… What if you’re lying to get me in trouble with Troy?” 

Jennifer feels her chest clench at that. “Will, I don’t… I don’t have any way to prove I’m not, but I’m not. I swear. Here, lemme…” She thinks. “I can try to, if you want.” Will nods. 

“Okay. I’ve had crushes on girls since I was in the first grade, you know, just little ones. Like, I’d see a girl and just… Yeah. And, this year, I really like Miriam Goldman. She’s the tall, frizzy black-haired girl with the nice nose and all. She’s in science with us. You know her?” He nods again. “Like, the other day, she asked for a pencil and I felt like the queen of the world, because she could’ve asked anyone for a pencil and she chose me. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah!” Will says excitedly. “I didn’t think anybody else was like that. Cool!” He sniffs a little, wiping his eyes free of the final droplets of sadness.

Jennifer smiles, patting his hand again. “See? We’re the same. We’re both just kids. Yeah?”

Will just grins, kicking his legs a little and looking at her. There’s a moment of tender silence, a small microcosm in space where things don’t seem so complicated. A little bubble where boys can like other boys and girls can like other girls without problems, where it seems they’ve found their people and a truly understanding friend. It’s a bittersweet moment, a reminder of how isolated they are as well as a reminder there’s at least one other person who understands, before Jennifer breaks it with a “so, who do you like for real?”

“Oh, I dunno…” Will says again, fiddling with his hair and chewing his lip. “Just… A guy.”  
Jennifer giggles. “It’s Mike, isn’t it? It has to be Mike. It is him, right?”

“I like him a /little/...” Will says sheepishly, before sighing and adding, “bit of a lot. Happy?”

“Yeah, I am, actually.” Jennifer says in saccharine sweetness, bouncing up and down a little. “Oh my God, you’d be so cute together, Will! I’m sorry, I don’t know you super well, but you guys are such good friends and he’s so…” She vaguely gestures, waiting for Will to fill in the blank.

“Cute? Smart? Sweet? Respectable?” Will says quickly, ducking his head in embarrassment at the statements.

“Yes! And you’re so nice and cute like a puppy and all, and you really know each other, you know?” Jennifer sounds excited to know this, possibly because she is easily excitable but also from the excitement of someone knowing how she feels.

“I… I guess so.” Will says modestly, fully aware he knows everything he could dream of about Mike Wheeler, and a little abashed to be called cute by Jennifer. 

Jennifer tries to look calm, glancing at her watch and standing up. “I better get going. If I’m not home my parents’ll be pissed. You?”

“I gotta be at Mike’s in half an hour,” Will says, standing and checking his own digital watch. “Hey, Jennifer?”

“Yeah, Will?”

“Can I…” Will gulps. “Can I call you Jenny?”

Jenny’s mouth breaks into a smile. “Sure you can, Will, if I can call you a big dork.”

“Fair,” He says softly, before saying, “we’re… we’re never gonna see each other again, are we?” He says it with conviction and regret, more of a statement than an actual question. 

“We will.” Jennifer takes Will into a hug, putting her chin on top of his head and squeezing tight. He stands in shock for a minute, surprised that Jennifer- Jenny to her friends- Hayes is hugging him and likes girls and thinks he’d be cute with the boy he’s liked since kindergarten, before hugging her back, much more gently, and pulls back slowly, reluctantly. Jenny rubs his arms through his jacket, leveling her gave with him.

“We will.”

“Okay,” Will says faintly, picking up his discarded bag and jumping down the stairs two at a time. “See you tomorrow!”

“Monday, you mean,” Jenny mumbles after him, “it’s a Friday.” 

He’s not good with goodbyes, she notes.

She’ll find out in a couple of months, she isn’t either.


End file.
